A Moment of Hope
by SilverSpoken63
Summary: ONESHOT. Nadia, a mutant, heads to her place to think about being asked to be part of a team and on a chance encounter, discovers physicist Bruce Banner who is planning the unthinkable. Please R&R!


**Author's Note: I do not own any characters, except Nadia, who is my own creation. All others belong to Marvel. This is my first oneshot so please R&R!**

Night transforms people; for some, they become alluring, irresistible creatures who seek the company of like-minded party goers. For others, they find that their own inner darkness finds them when the sunlight fades and gives way to the light of the moon. Nadia walked the thirteen flights of stairs towards the rooftop, for she was part of the latter and always sought solitude during the twilight hours.

The X-Men tried to recruit her earlier in the day, something she had no desire of being a part of, so now she had to clear her mind. Her name meant hope and coincidentally, she instilled hope within others just by touching them; she could also instill fear, pain, sorrow, and any other emotion for that matter. She herself could feel whatever she gave others as a consequence, and feared her powers would be used negatively.

Passing the tenth floor, Nadia was almost there. She lived in the building and had persuaded the superintendent to give her a key to the rooftop, saying she needed a place to go; he was sympathetic, but then again, Nadia made him that way. Still, she cherished her moments, watching the sunsets on the top of the building, watching people from a distance, and waiting for something bigger. She gripped her bottle of wine tighter and continued upward.

She pushed open the door and a gust of summer air blew her charcoal hair in various directions. Nadia brushed it out of her eyes and took in the sights of the city. New York breathed life and thrived vivaciously; people took the city as their own, made their own way, just like so many of their ancestors did upon their arrival. Nadia wanted to be one of those people; instead, she fell flat, barely making minimum wage and using her credit cards profusely to pay bills. It was the treacherous cycle of the lower-middle class: use one credit card to pay for another.

Nadia walked to her spot, the one that had a gorgeous view of Central Park and breathed deeply. She unscrewed her wine bottle, preferring the taste of cheap, uncorked wine and took a sip. It was earlier, around ten, and she knew the younger people were still getting ready to go to the clubs, to take part in being part in reckless abandon, if only to feel free to a moment. She missed those days. Nadia heard a gasped and she whirled around.

A man stood on the other side, oblivious to Nadia and she studied him. He work a buttoned-up shirt and khakis, nothing too discerning. The man had dark, curly hair and Nadia couldn't see his face, as his muscular back faced her. He was standing quite still, but his shoulders shuddered every now and then. Her jaw dropped when she caught the gun in his right hand. She couldn't witness whatever was about to take place.

"Sir?" she called. He turned around and his dark eyes widened, color draining from his face. A look of terror and sadness in his eyes.

"I thought no one was allowed up here," he said. His voice was so quiet, Nadia could barely hear him; she thought about stepping forward, but thought better of it.

"Well, it appears that's not entirely true. Do you want someone to talk to?" Nadia ventured.

"Not particularly. I'd rather you leave me alone."

"I'm afraid I can't do that."

"And why not?"

"Because there's a gun in your hand. I can call someone," Nadia offered.

"No, I just need you to leave," a hint of desperation filled his voice.

"Mmm, I don't think I can." She stepped forward, ever so slightly.

"Please."

"Just because you ask nicely, doesn't mean I'm going to leave a man up here, with a gun." Another step in his direction. "What's wrong?"

"I don't want to talk about it," the man said, gripping the gun tighter.

"Clearly, you should. Please, it won't fix everything, but it helps." Nadia watched the man turn back to face the skyline and her heart squeezed tightly, before skipping several beats.

"I can't do this anymore," he whispered. The wind carried his soft words across the rooftop to Nadia and her heat beat once.

"Do what?" she whispered back. She swallowed hard and walked briskly to the man's side, leaving her wine bottle on the ledge where she was previously standing. He turned around and eyes widened when he realized the woman was now standing by him. Nadia's eyes widened as she recognized the man. "Doctor Banner?"

Bruce Banner was startled. "Do I know you?"

"No," Nadia blushed. "I'm a receptionist at the lab. You wouldn't remember me. Now, _please_, just talk for a minute. If you still need to make this decision afterwards, I'll leave you alone."

"We both know you won't leave. Not that you've seen this," he gestured towards his gun.

"I promise, scout's honor." She held up three fingers.

The moon rose higher and Bruce sighed. "I can't talk about this. No one understands."

"I highly doubt that," Nadia said. She walked to the ledge and peered over, avoiding Dr. Banner's eyes. "I've been where you're standing now. You're feeling so hopeless and thinking that a bullet will solve every pain you've ever felt. That there is no one who can help, no one to talk to, no one loves you, no one can _ever_ love you. There's a hole in your heart that's gotten bigger and bigger as the years have passed and no matter how much you try to take your mind off of it, it's there waiting for you when you lay down at night, to try and sleep. You don't sleep, barely eat, and begin to fixate on death. It's the only logical solution, only feasible one. So you start getting close. You take pills, drink, cut, experiment with drugs to take the edge off. And still, you wake up every morning, wondering why it didn't work. So you move to the next step: a gun. So, Dr. Banner, you're wrong, terribly wrong. People do understand."

Nadia fell silent and refused to look at Bruce, to show her that a steady stream of tears were falling from both eyes. She sniffed and looked down, wondering if she jumped, would a car break her fall? Nadia shook her head violently, as if a bug had crawled on her, to bring her back to the present. She wasn't that person anymore. Nadia turned around.

Dr. Banner was staring at her strangely, feeling the depth of her monologue. "Damn, maybe you need this more than me," he said and almost handed her the gun.

"Neither of us needs it," she said quietly. "Please put it down."

Tears were forming in Dr. Banner's eyes. "I can't," he said. "It's for the best." He held up the gun and pressed it to his temple. "I've listened to you. Now, please leave me."

"Dr. Banner—"

"Please, go," he pleaded.

"I am _not_ letting a man kill themselves in front of me," Nadia said and reached for the gun just as Bruce pulled the trigger. The bullet entered his temporal lobe swiftly and Nadia's eyes, filled with fresh tears, widened. Bruce Banner was transforming before her eyes and turning…green? She was confused, and scared. There was blood, but it was quickly drying and the bullet wound was healing, no gaping wound, no trace of grey brain matter, but Nadia still had to swallow the urge to vomit. All the while, Bruce kept turning a deeper shade of green, a flash of unadulterated anger appeared on his face. As the face became something other than Bruce Banner's, it spit out the bullet, whole.

As Nadia was quickly figuring out that Dr. Banner had an alter ego, she reached forward and grabbed his transforming wrists. He picked her up, quite easily, and was about to throw her. As he was mid-swing, a look of serenity appeared on his face and the transformation began to slowly reverse. The semblance of Bruce Banner was returning quickly and Nadia kept channeling the feelings of tranquility and somehow, she felt as though everything would be all right; a side effect of her ability.

Dr. Banner was still gripping Nadia's wrists tightly. He looked at her in awe and let go, knowing she would have horribly bruises the next day. She reached forward and held his hand and gripped tightly.

"So you have some sort of calming effect on people?" he asked, smiling for the first time in several days.

"You could say that, don't let go otherwise the feeling will fade," Nadia said.

"Believe me, I'm not," Bruce replied. They turned their attention back onto the nightlife of the city as the positivity flowed between them and for the first time in years, Bruce caught an inkling of hope.


End file.
